The Smoky Corridor (23 page)

“Hold on,” said Zack. “We’re also looking for another friend. A girl named Azalea. Black hair. Black fingernails. Black eye makeup and lipstick. Did she come down this way?”

“Nope,” said Joseph. “We sure didn’t see no girl. Heck, there hasn’t been a
girl
down here in years.”

Seth nodded in agreement.

But then he winked again.

112

Zack and
Malik hurried through the open door and entered a room about the size of a walk-in closet.

The walls were streaked with black, the air tinged with the scent of wood smoke.

Zack looked up. Saw the fluted end of a smokestack.

“There’s the other door!” said Malik, pointing ahead. “Hurry!”

They went out the door.

“Close it!” said Malik.

They shoved it shut.

“Lower the latch.”

Zack lowered the heavy iron bar.

“Good,” said Malik. “Now the janitor zombie and Ms. DuBois can’t come after us!”

Zack just hoped Malik was right.

113

George draped
his jacket over as much of the corpse as he could.

Zipper slumped to the ground, his tail tucked between his legs.

“This is horrible. What’s going on down here?”

“Something unbelievably bad,” said Judy, almost as if she were talking to herself. “Why didn’t Zack tell me?”

“You?
Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Because you wouldn’t have believed him.”

“What?”

“This was done by some sort of supernatural beast. A werewolf or a ghoul or a …”

“Or a zombie.”

“What? You don’t believe in zombies or ghouls or ghosts. Right?”

“Sure he does,” said a kindly voice in the darkness.

Judy whipped her flashlight around. Its beam reflected off a white crossing-guard sash.

“Scary Arie?” said George.

“Hiya, George.”

“Honey?” said Judy.

“Judy, uh, meet Arie Sibirski. In 1949, he died saving a kid in a crosswalk.”

“Darn turnip truck,” groused Arie.

“He’s a ghost?” said Judy.

“Yeah.”

“And you can see him?”

“You see him, too, right?” George asked Judy.

“Yeah. So that’s where Zack gets it.…”

“Zack sees ghosts? He never told me.”

“Did you ever tell anybody?”

“Are you kidding? They would’ve thought I was …” He paused for a second. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Zack your son?” asked Arie.

“Yes.”

“He and a friend named Malik went down to the end of the tunnel and took the staircase on the left.”

“Thanks! Come on, Judy.”

Arie flipped up a handheld stop sign. “Sorry. It’s not safe down there.”

“That’s why we have to find Zack!”

“No, I mean it’s not safe for you two.”

“Sorry, Arie.” George grabbed Judy by the hand. “Our son needs us. We’re breaking the stupid rules!”

114

The eight-year-old
girl in the yellow head scarf marched into the school, went left, toward the cafeteria, headed down a flight of steps, and entered the janitor’s closet.

She had never been in the building before.

In fact, she had never journeyed beyond the borders of Louisiana.

But she knew exactly where she was going.

“Joc-a-mo-fee-no-ah-nah-nay,”
she mumbled.
“Joc-a-mo-fee-nah-nay.”

115

George Jennings
could not believe he was seeing ghosts again.

It had been nearly twenty-two years since he had lost “the gift.” And he hadn’t missed it. Never told anybody he’d ever had it, either. Not his dad. Not his first wife. Not Zack. Not Judy.

“I haven’t seen Arie since I was thirteen,” he said out loud as he and Judy followed Zipper down a long tunnel. “He helped me win my first case.”

“How?” Judy asked.

“Mr. Crumpler, the assistant principal, accused my friend Stinky Seiden of stealing chocolate milk from the cafeteria. Arie led me to evidence showing that one of Mr. Crumpler’s favorites, the football captain, was the one stealing the milk, not Stinky. I stood up for my friend. He was exonerated. Mr. Crumpler was publicly humiliated.”

“No wonder he doesn’t like Zack.”

“Wow. My son sees ghosts. You do, too?”

Judy shrugged. “I see talking cats, too.…”

They reached a wall full of pocket watches and the two staircases. They followed Zipper down the steps to the left and entered a maze.

Zipper sniffed the air. Barked.

“He’s picking up Zack’s scent!” said Judy. “Run, Zip, run!”

116

Zipper’s snout
had a laser lock on his boy.

Zack’s special odor. Better than bacon.

Left, left, left.

Dogs were much better at mazes than humans were.

Especially if their special someone had already gone through it before them!

117

Breathing hard
, George and Judy raced after Zipper, who was zooming through the maze.

George sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”

“Yeah. Smoke.”

“Oh, boy. I hope Zack didn’t start another fire.”

118

“Careful!” said
Zack.

He and Malik were in another tunnel, about ten feet away from the back door to the small chamber.

The floor seemed to shimmy and quiver.

There was a huge sinkhole dead ahead. A thick cloud of dust hovered over it.

Cautiously, Zack crept to the lip of the crater, knelt down, and shone his flashlight into the pit. To his surprise, there was another chamber under the tunnel they were in.

“There’s a lower level!” he whispered to Malik.

Zack swung his beam around the hazy room below. Its floor was littered with chunks of rocky debris. The walls were lined with wooden shelves. Now the flashlight glinted off glass. Zack could vaguely make out several rows of dusty jars. Maybe it was another root cellar.

“We need to be down there!” Zack whispered to Malik.

Then, as quietly as they could, the two boys jumped into the dark room below.

119

Judy, George
, and Zipper raced around a corner and entered what looked and felt like a furnace room.

They saw a drooling man holding a revolver on Zack’s teacher, Ms. DuBois.

“Where’s my son?” George shouted.

“What are you two doing down here?” the teacher hissed.

“We’re looking for Zack!” said Judy.

“So am I,” the teacher said sweetly, batting her eyes. “But this brute took my pistol. Be a dear, Mr. Jennings, and help me retrieve it.”

“Your
pistol
?” said George, who wasn’t going anywhere near the drooling man, who looked like he was dead, even though he was standing up and holding a gun.

“Don’t listen to her,” said the younger of two ghosts who suddenly materialized in front of the furnace.

“You’re Seth Donnelly, right?” said Judy very tenderly.

The boy smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I sure am.”

“Knock it off, little brother. She’s a grown-up.”

“She’s a mom.”

“So? Moms are grown-ups, too.” Joseph turned to Judy. Puffed up his chest. “Do we know you, lady?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know us?”

“I went to the library.”

“Who the devil are you talking to?” demanded Ms. DuBois.

Judy and George pointed. “The two boys,” said Judy. “The Donnelly brothers.”

“You can see ghosts? Of course! Zack gets his special powers from you two! His parents! What’s on the other side of that door? The one in the small chamber there.”

“How should I know?”

“Ask your dead friends!”

George moved closer to the two ghost boys. “Where’s Zack?”

“He’s safe,” said Seth.

“Did he and Malik go through that door?”

“Yep,” said Joseph. “They sure did. Then they jumped down a rabbit hole. You should’ve seen ’em. Landed on their keisters! Guess they want that gold bad, huh?”

“I don’t care about the stupid gold!” said George, wildly flapping his arm toward the open door to the small chamber. “But if that’s where Zack and Malik went to find it …”

Ms. DuBois’s eyebrows shot up when she heard that.

“Get out of my way!” She shoved George aside, ran for the door, jumped into the chamber, and slammed the door tight behind her.

“Lock it!” Joseph shouted to the drooling man at the furnace, who didn’t budge. “Seth? Tell your slave to lock her in!”

The man looked to the young boy, who nodded sadly.

“Yes, master.”

Joseph cackled with laughter.

The man lumbered over to the door and dropped a heavy steel brace into a bracket.

“Pump in the smoke!” shouted Joseph, and once again Seth nodded.

“Yes, master.”

The zombie returned to the furnace and shoved a huge lever forward.

“What are you doing?” shouted George.

“What that no-good, two-faced teacher done to us!” Joseph shouted back.

And then one Donnelly brother sobbed while the other one just laughed and laughed and laughed.

120

The room
they had dropped into had six solid walls, no doorway.

But that hadn’t stopped someone from entering it: There were huge holes bashed through two of the thick stone walls. Flickering light fluttered through the far opening, from which Zack heard clinking and someone who sounded like Azalea on a really bad day barking orders: “More! Load the backpack!”

Zack raised a finger to his lips. Malik nodded.

In the dim light, Zack could see a steel support beam lying in a pile of rubble. Probably why the ceiling, which had been Zack and Malik’s floor, had opened up into a sinkhole.

Why was this room sealed off from all the others?
Zack wondered.

“Check out the jars,” whispered Malik. “On the shelves and on the floor. Only one has a lid.”

“There’s something written on the sides,” Zack whispered back. “See the labels?”

“Yeah.”

“They look like names.”

“What’s the one with the lid say?” asked Malik.

Zack took it off the shelf. The glass felt warm, and something glimmered inside. “McNulty.”

They heard a thud and clank of something heavy falling to the floor. Carrying the jar, Zack crept closer to the hole in the far wall.

“You weakling!” shouted the voice that sounded like Azalea’s. “Surely you can carry more than that! Pile those bars on top of each other!”

Zack gripped the edge of a broken cinder block and peeked into the adjoining chamber—a room filled with shimmering bars of gold stacked ten feet tall, maybe ten feet deep.

“Faster, McNulty! I want to haul two dozen bars out of here before midnight tonight!”

“Yes, master.”

Azalea wasn’t alone.

The zombie was with her. And apparently, his name was McNulty.

Just like the name on the jar.

121

Judy heard
Ms. DuBois’s fists pounding against the door.

“You’ll kill her!”

Joseph Donnelly’s grin grew wider. “That’s the plan, ma’am!”

“And then we can go home, right, Joe?” Seth pleaded.

“Maybe, little brother. Maybe.”

George bolted for the door, got his hands on the lock bar, started prying it up.

“Stop him!” shouted Seth. “I want to leave this place!”

The zombie leapt across the room and, with superhuman strength, grabbed hold of George and yanked him away from the door.

“I promised Joe he could have the teacher! She’s evil!”

“But killing is wrong!” said Judy, moving closer to Seth.

Too close.

The zombie, holding George off the ground with one hand, strode across the room and grabbed Judy with the other.

“Protect master!”

When Zipper nipped at his ankles, the thing kicked the dog sideways, sending him skittering across the floor into the concrete slab holding up the broiling furnace.

Zipper yelped.

122

Zack heard
his dog yelp.

And then what sounded like his father shouting: “Where’s my son?”

And Judy: “Put me down!”

His parents were in trouble—and somewhere close.

He peered into the gold chamber. Saw a ladder bolted to the wall. It had to go back up to the furnace room. And since Malik and he couldn’t climb up the way they’d come down …

“I’m going in,” he whispered to Malik.

“Are you crazy? There’s a zombie in there with Azalea, who isn’t really Azalea right now!”

“Don’t worry. I have his soul!”

“What?”

Zack didn’t answer. He climbed through the hole and into the room filled with gold.

123

“You!” Captain
Pettimore snarled through Azalea. “You’re the boy I thought would be the one!”

Zack’s eyebrows arched up. He had no idea what the man inside his friend was blabbing about.

“Kill him, McNulty!”

The giant flew across the room.

Zack held up the glass jar.

“Remember this?” he said to the beast.

The zombie froze.

“It’s your soul. It’s who you really are, not who Pettimore tells you to be!”

Zack smashed the jar down hard against the stone floor.

The zombie’s eyes opened wide.

Golden light, like a squadron of fireflies, zoomed up from the shattered glass and smacked the zombie square in the chest. He recoiled in shock. Surprise and joy and sunshine filled his face as he drew in one long breath.

“My name is Cyrus McNulty,” he said slowly. “I come from Indiana.”

“That’s right,” said Zack. “Welcome home.”

As McNulty smiled, his face seemed to bake—to dry out like mud in the sun. In an instant, it was crackled and brittle. In another, it crumpled into dust like it should have done back in 1864. The dead man’s empty rags drifted to the floor.

McNulty was gone.

“Come on!” Zack called to Malik as he ran to the ladder. “The other one’s upstairs and he doesn’t have a soul jar!”

Malik raced across the room and followed Zack up the rungs.